I am sick of me. I can imagine how you guys must feel. WHEN IS SHE GOING TO BE FUNNY? Shut up about the government. Yes, I agree. Wasted effort. Puts me in there with Slow Limbaugh and Glenn "Wah" Beck. Except that I am correct.
Since I have been scanning the approximately 21,000 pictures I have either inherited or taken I have revisited some great vacations. Mountains and oceans. Foreign country with my chosen sister. THE BEST TOUR EVER! with my chosen Bubba and Sis and Current. We met our favorite person there. He became family. We bonded immediately. I will adopt him someday because, though it was my last vacation, it was the best. He made us feel like friends and natives and we made him feel like we might pack him in our suitcase and bring him home. HI WIL!
I need a vacation. An out of state, road trip to somewhere breath taking and cool that smells good. Our trip to Hawaii was in 2008. Since then I have been able to grab some weekends in the hill country now and again and a trip or two to Bossier. I want a weeks long, go the the Tetons, Yellowstone, THANK YOU GOD, vacation. I will be patient. I have no other choice.
Looking at photos of my Grandmother's house makes me feel four years old. Odd, I always think of it as HER house. It was actually my Great Grandmother's house on my Grandfather's side. To me it is Gramma's house.
I thought of this house as huge when I was little but actually it is very small with multiple porches that were also living and sleeping areas. The house smelled like "Gramma's house". If your grandmother's house had this smell, you know what I mean. It is a combination of baking and ancient fires in the fireplace. A little musty but not stuffy. Every time I walk into an old building that has this smell I am immediately in Forrest Glenn's kitchen. Forrest Glenn was my gramma. I always wanted to name my son after her. Sorry, Gramma.
As a little child time is not relative to your life. Calendars and seasons are the property of adults. There is cartoon time, play time, nap time, lunch time, etc. I never knew when vacation was coming until we were packing. The only season I really kept an eye on was Christmas. Duh.
Then suddenly one day mom would be packing suitcases and talking about getting up real early to go to Gramma's! I would be thrilled. ROAD TRIP. See Gramma. She was stern but fascinated me. She also had dignity to fill the room. Miss Forrest was SOMEBODY. Hardy, my Grandfather, was SOMEBODY too. He was HER husband and an important man in a teeny town. Think Mayberry. Grandad owned "The Garage". Which was a car dealership and service station with a mechanic. Mr. Hardy.
OH BOY! I could hardly wait to get in that 56 Chevy with no AC and hit the road. Drink cold sodas from service stations with peanuts in the bottom. THRILLING! That lasted about two hours. Then I would whine about stopping at a motel with a pool.
This was prior to the Interstate. This was back roads and state highways. Cities and towns and lots and stopping and going. It took two days to travel the 800 some odd miles to Calhoun, Kentucky, population, 800. Across the bridge from Rumsey, population, 300. These towns are on the Green River which feeds into the Ohio. It's a waterway for coal barges mainly. Calhoun has the locks where the barges are raised and lowered on their travels. This is the entertainment in town.
After several hours in the hot car, no radio station left to listen or sing along to, we would play a game. I know some of you played I Spy and The License Plate Game. We played the Cow game. I am NOT making this up. These were the rules:
You own the cows on your side of the car. When you see cows, you count or estimate the number of cows per approximate acreage. Dad would decide if you were exaggerating your cow number. A white horse was worth 100 cows. If you passed a cemetery on your side all your cows died and you had to start over. At the end of the day, when we pulled into the Holiday Inn, the child with the most cows won...nothing.
The most exciting part of vacation in the car were the exotic stops along the way. The service stations and diners of America. Needing gas while on vacation taught me anxiety early in life. I can still hear my parents in the front seat discussing the need to stop for gas.
MOM: Look, almost on E, we need to find gas in the next town.
DAD" Nah, well if they have one that gives S&H Green stamps.
MOM: Murph, we will run out of gas if we don't stop in the next town.
DAD: We'll find one that gives stamps.
ME: Can we have a cold soda with peanuts?
MOM: hush.
DAD: yes, as soon as I find a station WITH GREEN STAMPS.
MOM: The needle is on E.
DAD: No, it isn't it's still a little above, besides we have a couple of gallons after that.
MOM: Please stop in the next town, I don't want to be stuck on the side of the road with no gas.
DAD: There's one that give stamps.
MOM: Where?
DAD: The other side of the highway, we just passed it. I will just cross the median and go back
MOM: That is dangerous. You aren't supposed to cross the grass....MURPH, you are going to kill us. Do you see that car? MURPH....
DAD: Hush, we are here.
MOM: How are we going to get back to the other side of the highway?
DAD: I'll cross the median.
MOM: You are going to kill us. KIDS. GO PEE.
I would pee everything I ever drank to avoid having to stop again. We would, if we were lucky, be able to pay the deposit on the sodas and take them with us. If not, we stood there slamming sodas and hopped back in to hot car knowing we would have to stop and pee and soon. Back across the median with all of us white knuckled and relieved when we weren't dead and heading in the right direction.
WHO WANTS TO PLAY THE COW GAME?
help me
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